


i’d pay anything to keep my conscience clean

by peachydz



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Obsession, john’s perspective, literally there are no tags to tag??, wow this tagging thing sure is hard huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 13:24:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachydz/pseuds/peachydz
Summary: rose lalonde, my fair lady





	i’d pay anything to keep my conscience clean

**Author's Note:**

> title is a lyric from “the party” by st vincent
> 
> i think this one is okay, i think it’s the only writing i’ve done that i actually went back and rewrote to make it sound a bit better! it isnt the wooorst

the way she talks, like rose lalonde was always one (no, five) steps ahead of your own mind. like she understood you more than you understood yourself. her lips were tight but her door was always open. many nights were spent pestering rose, constantly prodding her for information of any kind. most of it went over your head but you grasped onto the wayward, only hoping to gain even an infinitesimal glance into her mind. 

rose lalonde kept her distance from the world. and you. 

the way she moves, like rose lalonde knew exactly where your thoughts were and wanted to entertain them. your teenaged awkwardness and graceless limbs were red flags that you were not a natural at the whole romance deal, but that didn’t stop her. leather skirts that rode up when she sat with you, leafing hands through your hair, strolling away before it felt like it was time to be AWAY. she pulled you in like butterflies to nectar every passing day.

rose lalonde was tenebrous and bright all at once.

the way she looks, like rose lalonde was detached from society and relished in the fact. that never stopped you from seeing her as rose who liked to knit sweaters, rose who could spend hours helping her friends. she was, in her very roots, caring and not as removed as she thought. her black lipstick that needed touch ups every hour, the way her freckles popped through her pasty makeup, her dark clothes that she would probably use words like “caliginous” to describe. she was more than her looks revealed, but not everyone has to know that.

rose lalonde (in all her dusked glory, in all her tender words) could not possibly keep you away.


End file.
